Hello From The Other Side
by IAmThePoisonedYouth
Summary: Scott, Lydia, Stiles, Malia and Kira visit Allison's grave. Little do they know, Allison is right there with them, only unable to touch or be seen. {Post 3B}


It got more difficult every single day.

Walking around, just a shift away from everyone else, unable to touch, her voice a silent echo, her heart cold and unbeating, it was torture. It hurt to see her friends suffering, to see her beloved Scott a wreck at times, unable to sleep. It hurt to see the once so beautifully human and pure Stiles wracked with guilt, his nights plagued with terrors, the sound of his screams chilling her to the bone.

She simply wished she didn't feel so detached. At first, she was confused, and thought it was some kind of dream and it took her a while to finally realise.

This was hell.

Her own personal hell. Watching her friends but being incapable of feeling them, it was the worst thing she had endured.

Seeing her best friend Lydia sobbing hysterically at her funeral made her just want to hold her, to wrap her up in her arms and tell her that it'd be okay. But every time that instinct started to kick in, she found herself unable to feel the redhead's skin against her own.

And, God, she was so alone.

In life, the young huntress hadn't been a believer, but as she stared down at her own headstone, the letters mocking her, she couldn't deny it, and she wondered several things. Was this her punishment? For getting involved in something she shouldn't have?

Her fingers almost traced the letters, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She turned back to her friends who were visiting her grave and she noticed Scott's fingers link with the kitsune, Kira's.

She had to confess to the pang of jealousy she felt at it, but every time she did, she felt immensely guilty. She couldn't expect Scott to love a ghost for the rest of his life, could she?

Stiles gave an uneasy smile as he shakily knelt to put flowers down on her grave, "Hey, Allison." he mumbled, "It's been about two weeks since we last visited. Sorry, we've been bothered with… with Coach, you know him, he's a dick." tears pricked his eyes, and he got to his feet, and Malia, the werecoyote they had helped, came over beside him, seeing that he was starting to crumble, "I'm fine… God…" he swiped at his eyes, and Scott rested a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, dude." he reassured, and the spectator's heart sunk, tears filling her eyes, "Allison wouldn't want you blaming yourself."

She crossed over, resting her hand against Stiles' cheek in a small semblance of a touch, her voice cracking as she whispered, "It isn't your fault, Stiles. Please, don't blame yourself."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be being this pathetic…" Stiles muttered, rubbing his face, "She was your girlfriend, and Lydia's best friend."

Scott squeezed his shoulder lightly, "She was your friend too. You lost her too… You're allowed to mourn her." he let go of Kira's hand and turned his best friend to face him, "Hey… come here, bro…"

He pulled Stiles into a hug, feeling the other boy bury his face between the junction of his neck and shoulder. He stroked his back, feeling Stiles tremble, not quite opening up, but they were getting there.

"Allison…" Lydia's voice was hushed as she knelt beside the grave, "I know that you probably can't hear us but… God… you would've hated your funeral. It was all dour and depressing, you know, like… like funerals are, usually. You would've wanted us to be happier, but I guess without you, it's pretty much impossible." she gasped a few times, tears furiously rolling down her cheeks, "What I'm trying to say is… nothing's the same without you. It's like drowning, like everything in the world is just pain. I keep trying to phone you d-during the night and-and then I remember…" she couldn't continue and wept softly into her hands.

Stiles pulled away from Scott and knelt beside Lydia, pulling her close, feeling her crying into his shirt. Malia and Kira exchanged looks of sorrow as Scott finally went before her grave.

"Hey…" Scott swallowed, rubbing his eyes, "So, I… I didn't have any money to buy you flowers so I opted for something different."

The spectre sat beside him, reaching out to stroke his hair in an almost-there touch, and for a second, it was almost like he felt it, a shiver running through his body.

"I got you this." he pulled a pen out of his jacket, "So… so you don't ever forget one again. I meant to bring one to your funeral, but I couldn't remember. So here it is, to forgetting things, and some knowledge that I'll never, ever forget you." he put the pen in the middle of the mass of flowers, then kissed his palm before pressing it to the cold stone of the memorial, "Allison Argent, a light that graced the world and was put out before it's time. Loved friend and daughter." he recited, a sad smile gripping his lips, "Understatement. You didn't deserve this, Allison, but I hope that wherever you are, you're happy. Because I love you."

She sniffled, "I miss you so much, Scott. You, and Lydia, and Stiles, and Isaac. And my dad." she couldn't see him as he was never in Beacon Hills anymore, having fled to France with Isaac following her demise. Each and every time she tried to leave, she was flung back.

Yet again, it was turning out to be her personal hell.

"Are you guys going to be okay?" Malia asked, the question more directed at Stiles, her anchor.

Stiles gave a nod, "Eventually."

"No…" Lydia shook her head, whimpering, "How could I be okay, when she's gone? The one person in this world who definitely did not deserve it and… and…"

Stiles held Lydia close again, hushing her, "You're going to be fine, you're a fighter, just like Allison was."

"We're not fighters." Scott stated monotonously, "We're just survivors. Fighters are the ones who go out with a blaze of glory, survivors are the ones left behind."

Stiles swallowed back his tears, "We're just teenagers, dude. We're not meant to fight. We're meant to grow up and get a job, and live. This is… this is horrible."

"I know, man." Scott rested his hand on Stiles' knee, "But now we survive in her name, okay?"

Stiles nodded, "Okay."

"Yeah." Lydia's mouth twitched.

Scott sighed, "Come on, let's go home." he turned back to the grave, "Goodbye, Allison. We'll try and come and visit as soon as possible."

"Yeah." Stiles helped Lydia up, feeling her curl into him.

Allison pleaded, "Don't go. Don't leave me alone." but as the group all went back to their cars, she found herself painfully solitary again, the cold and darkness creeping in.

She screamed aloud, tears streaming down her cheeks and wondered how long it would take, just hovering around a cemetery, for her to go insane. Maybe then, she would get some peace, and everything would stop hurting.

She felt physically sick, clutching her stomach as she fell to her knees, sobbing, begging for them not to leave her alone, wishing for blissful insanity to take her. Everything was like a cruel joke, like destiny was mocking herself and Scott for every time they promised they wouldn't get split apart, and every time someone else told them it wouldn't last.

Death was a cruel master and every time she broke, she could feel the Oni's sword slicing through her. It had hurt at first, when the blade broke the skin, then there was nothing, nothing but time running out as she gasped out her final words to her first love.

Everytime she closed her eyes, she would see herself back in Scott's arms, in a moment of peace, and it was worst than hell. There was no words for the pain she felt, the emotional pain she had felt whilst bleeding out in his arms.

She was eighteen years old, she didn't want to be dead, but nobody could ever seem to get what they wanted any more.

She wanted to scream that it wasn't anyone's fault, but nobody would hear. Whenever Stiles visited, he would tell her off his nightmares, about how he still felt the Nogitsune's presence in his mind, how he was sorry he caused her death. All she wanted was to hold her friends, but she only got the cold and the dark.

And it wasn't fair.


End file.
